


Raging Wars and Feral Roars

by Eclipse_Writes



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: A LOT of violence, BURN BITCH, Bloody, Gorey, I will add more tags as I update, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, a lot of fucking swearing, don't mind me hurting the characters I like the most, except for tord, he is a bitch, holy shit tord sit down, probably some tense sex but idk yet, slower updates, the red army wages war against the green resistance, tom is the general and tord doesn't like that, tom what the fuck, umm, war is stupid but god it's perfect for a story, yay for a lot of painful moments to read and to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclipse_Writes/pseuds/Eclipse_Writes
Summary: The sound of gunshots pinged in his ears. Both sides are firing rapidly to kill each other. Heavy smoke filled his nose with the scent of burning flesh and oil-fueled fires. His gun felt lighter than normal, but he didn’t have time to worry. Lifting the hunk of death metal to his shoulder and looked down the sights. Black smoke covered the identity of the soldier in the distance. It wasn’t a Red Army military issued uniform yet he was hesitant to pull the trigger. The enemy was right there but he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. A familiar form caused him to falter even when it was his mission to kill all who opposed him.
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The sound of gunshots pinged in his ears. Both sides are firing rapidly to kill each other. Heavy smoke filled his nose with the scent of burning flesh and oil-fueled fires. His gun felt lighter than normal, but he didn’t have time to worry. Lifting the hunk of death metal to his shoulder and looked down the sights. Black smoke covered the identity of the soldier in the distance. It wasn’t a Red Army military issued uniform yet he was hesitant to pull the trigger. The enemy was right there but he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. A familiar form caused him to falter even when it was his mission to kill all who opposed him.
> 
> Lowering the rifle he took a step forward as the figure yelled orders and began to walk further into the battlefield. He reached out tentatively in fear. Something wasn’t right. Deep down he knew the worst was about to happen. Another step forward and he opened his mouth to warn them. They vanished in a blinding light and deafening explosion. Rubble flew past his face as he stared forward in disbelief. Falling to his knees he threw his head back and let out an ear-piercing roar of pain. He felt like he just lost everything he wanted, no, what he needed to survive. An inky black covered his vision. 
> 
> Snapping forward he ripped off the visor throwing it to the floor in a blind rage. It shattered into thousands of pieces with a large crash. Tears streamed down his face as he got to his feet. Knuckles white glared at the floor as if it had betrayed him somehow. Heavy breaths were the only sound that made it to his ears. The guards standing watch flinched as he snapped his attention towards them. Rage burned within himself and with the click of his heel touching the tiled floor. 
> 
> “Speak a word of this! And your head will be on a stick.” his voice was shot but shook fear into his soldiers.
> 
> “Yes Red Leader!” they said in unison, they gripped their hands tighter behind their backs.
> 
> “Wise of you,” he nodded, gaining his composer back and stepped towards the door. His famous glare stuck to his face as he made his exit into the bustling halls of his grand base.

“RED LEADER!”

Red, heat, and angry flames were all he could recognize. The bright color was all he could see, above him, on him, below him. A strange warmth covered him, some areas more than others. Warmth seemed to ooze across his face and pooled into his clothes. Flames danced close by as they crackled dangerously in a challenge. The right side of his body was cold, yet he didn’t register it in the slightest. A thick smoke swirled past his face as he stared blankly forward. Burning rubber and gasoline filled his nose as he took short breaths. Muffled yells and dinging metal went unnoticed as he laid frighteningly still.

“PAUL! OVER HERE!”

Blue, a bright blue came flooding into his view as the rubble pinning him was moved. The face that followed was blurry and unrecognizable at best for him. Letting them pull him from the crash site was a worrying sight but it never set in for the critically injured man. A tall figure stood above his head and squat down for a better look. Their eyes met although one was glossy and unfocused. Long hair covered both of their views until one pulled it back, all he saw was a fast blur whizz by. His eyes tried to follow the blur only to find another figure, the one from before. Cigarette smoke filled his lungs, one more thing he can recognize but couldn’t piece together.

“Okh shit! Sir! Pat! Tell medic bay prepare for Code Blue!”

Hands grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. The whole right side of his body was numb and just about fell face first back onto the ground. A hardy grasp from behind had him swept into a set of arms. His eyes landed on a thin beard of a man with a chewed up cigarette in his mouth. Vancatly watching the smoke dance effortlessly out of existence as their lips moved. Turning his head he let it hang as he watched the other man with dark long hair run towards another red object. Green grass lightly swayed in the small gust of wind as it grazed himself. 

“Got it! Keep an eye on his wounds!”

It felt nice, cold and warm at the same time. Eyes drawing to a hand gripping his shoulder noticed many little scars. Drawing with his pupils he outlined every scar he saw. They were rough and thick. Their nails were worn and had red caked under them. Another muffled yell went through his ears unnoticed. Well, one of them, but he wasn’t quite so sure yet. Finding the red object was much closer than before should’ve clicked for him. But it wasn’t until he was flung over a shoulder and stuffed inside of it. He didn’t like it one bit. 

“Is bad Patryck, he hasn’t responded to pain! Ve got to go!”

“Then stay in the back with him, assess the damage.”

The only act of distaste he could pull off was to grimace glare. Muffled words slowly became ever so clear as familiar hands trapped him to the inside. Then their owners followed behind swiftly to sit next to him. Neither could he feel nor see the man poking and prodding at his right side. His wicked glare stuck to his face only to fall when he looked forward with the roaring engine getting his attention. Large trees whizzed past as they flew forward. Knuckles turned white as he slowly put everything back together.

“Pat, shrapnel khas been embedded so deep. Probably into or zrough bone.”

Everything on the right was heavily dampened to almost complete silence. The view that was swiftly changing took a familiar path. With one quick look at the rearview mirror told him everything. His right side was a sickening red and blue as flesh quickly died. Paul was too focused poking at his arm to notice his eyes. Then it dawned on him, his right eye was as useless as his arm was and he was completely deaf in his damaged ear.

“Fuck!”

The car swerved violently to the right as the road ended. Being jostled to the left snapped himself into reality. Many things are needed to change if he even wants a chance to follow up on his ambitions. Paul flung himself forward to grapple the passenger seat just so he wouldn’t hit his leader as the car straightened. He could see the hidden gates clearly. His soldiers watching in wait for their fearless Red Leader to come back from his mission. He bit the inside of his cheek as they floored it out of the way of Patryck.

“Slow the fuck down Pat!”

He prepared himself for the sudden stop and so did Paul. Soldiers flooded the entrance to their base. Catching Paul off guard he unbuckled his seat belt and waited for his right-hand man to open the door. Holding out his hand Paul grabbed it and helped him out. His right arm hung loosely at his side as he limped forward. The usual scowl made its way to his face as he passed his army. Quick to drown out all the noise he let Patryck and Paul do all the talking for him. Pain was slowly seeping through his skin as they ll walked to the med bay. 

The door was swiftly opened for him as he limped forward and got onto the table. Nurses, doctors, and even surgeons waited inside. All of them looked petrified, that shouldn’t shock him. Yet as he laid his had down onto the steel bed he fought himself not to wince. For their sake if not his own. They started their work as soon as he opened his mouth, not a sound has even come from his throat yet.

“My eye, it’s useless to me. Get rid of it,” he had said in a low tone of voice. Shivers went down everyone’s spines as he shut his lips. It was extremely painful but he had too much pride to let anyone see that.

“Sir are you-” “Yes I am, just get it over with!”

Silence followed shortly after. No one would ever dare to talk back to the Red Leader. Well, no one has lived to talk about it. Pat and Paul talked quietly over plans but also watching their leader out of the corner of their eyes. Just like his best soldiers should. Silver caught his attention as it hovered over his face. Ignoring the pain was becoming much harder to do and as the speculum was painfully put into his right socket. His eye looked away and found Patryck staring at him with a grim face only to nod solemnly in agreement. This was going to be fucking painful.

He could feel them slowly snipping away at his eye along with shrapnel still being pulled out of his body. And after what feels like forever he saw it. His eye was dropped into a jar full of liquid then shut with a hiss. Surgeons and doctors slowly took leave as they completed their tasks. Some spoke to Patryck and Paul about things and how they should be taken with himself. So as soon as the iv was attached to his arm he pushed himself to the side of the table. Paul was there in an instant holding him up to stay on his feet. A straggling doctor gasped in disbelief as they started to make their way out the door. 

“Our glorious leader only rests in his own bed. We will be by his side twenty-four-seven until he can be on his own again. So don’t worry,” Pat interjected as he pulled them out of the way.

Colors began to blur together as they walked out into the quiet halls. The sound of footsteps sounded like they were a million miles away. Paul held him up even when he stumbled forward from time to time. The brute of a man could easily tell the pain wasn’t the only thing pushing him forward. And hell, Paul would rather watch paint dry instead of watching his leader crumble under forces he can’t control. Even when Patryck caught up their leader was slipping even further. 

His mind was reliving the worst moment of his life again and again without fail. Words stung more than they did and the wounds throbbed viciously. He didn’t even know if he could make it to his own bed-chamber in this state. But as the doors reared their head they opened up into a pitch-black room. It called for him, yearned for him to rest his eye. Paul held him for the last few yards as he was undressed to just his pants. The world around him still spun. As the doors slowly closed shut casting out the light. His eye closed as he tried to stop the spinning. Only one sentence stuck to him as he fell into a deep slumber.

“I’M NOT YOUR FRIEND!”


	2. Chapter One - Where It All Began

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, sorry for the wait. Hope yall like it. It took me forever to write!

He hated that damn bear. The way it stared into his soul and judged his every thought. But it was all for sanity’s sake. It was the only thing that kept him grounded, to just take care of himself. Just to spite the Jehovah's Witness with the bold fact that he was still alive and kicking. He wasn’t thriving, no, nothing thrives in war. There is FAR too much paperwork for that. Yet the long black stitched slit for an eye made everyone uneasy, even Paul and his no-bullshit exterior. Faded brown cloth worn down from many years of love and abuse. Tord didn’t have the story of the bear, but he knows its owner. 

It stayed in its decorative case in the corner of his office. Just to watch over everything and unsettle ‘guests’. Getting that thing almost cost him Patryck in the process. Pat wasn’t very happy to learn what he just risked his life for. Looking back it was funny but back then it was the matter of life and death for the soldier. Tord couldn’t blame him for his reaction. The scar is still visible on his neck. His willingness to let the threat to life slide is why he still has Patryck at his side. Though the jagged edges of his scar say it was a threatening cut, it wasn’t, in Tord’s mind in the least. 

Someone would have to do something worse to make him kick the bucket. And the only one he was fearful of being capable enough to do it was a man who went by Tom. The general of the Green Resistance, led by an old friend, whose sole purpose is to kill him and destroy his army. And like hell he would let something like that ever happen. He would never let that bastard rest for the damage he had caused. To his plans and to his body. A gloved hand lightly covered the gaping hole in his face, where his eye should’ve been. 

Under that glove was a metal hide protecting all sorts of wiring and circuits. He had put a lot of sweat, blood, and tears into it no thanks to a black-eyed man. The eye, it was taking a lot longer to make the eye, it was small and round making it hard to work with. All the components he needed could barely fit in it let alone feel comfortable in the socket. It didn’t help that Tord still stared at that damned bear. Every glance cost him an hour of his precious time.

‘Knock knock’ it was firm, the thick door slowly opened revealing a very messy Paul. His day off had started and he took it with pride. All the while he shoved it into everyone’s faces. A very classic Paul to be specific. Cigarette smoke wafted lazily into the room only to dissipate when the burly man walked through it. Tord looked away from his decoration to look the man in the eyes. Slightly yellow teeth came to view as he smiled.

“Vell, I got khear before Patty. Lucky day for me,” Paul laughed, his thick accent sending a crooked grin on Tord’s face. Without hesitation, he took a file and dropped it on the boss’s desk with a ‘thap’ as it landed. Taking a seat he smiled to himself as he crossed his legs.

“Well, well, well, what did you grab me this time Paul. We both know Patryck hates it when you take his files,” Tord laughed as he gently took the folder with his black-gloved hand. Just reading the title had the leader giddy. ‘Tom’ was written in bold and stamped with a red ‘IMPORTANT’ and ‘CLASSIFIED’. Opening the cream-colored folder made him let out a pleased hum. 

“I zeink ya vant look at last page. Very interesting stuff,” Paul leaned forward pointing to a light blue piece of paper in the back. The heavy smell of his cigarette suggested he pulled it out of his mouth to exhale. That poor crumpled cigarette. The Russian and his chewing on the tips of his cigs never changed. “Even I read vole zing!”

Now that really had his leader’s interest. Paul wasn’t the type of person to read files that didn’t interest him. So him cracking open this file and reading it was a big indicator. Skipping to the blue paper he gently took it with both hands. He very much missed another subtle knock on the door and the frown cascading on Patryck’s face as he entered. Tord was oblivious to imminent scrabble about to happen right in front of his face. 

“Paul! What the fuck are doing with my file! Let alone giving it to the boss!”

“Vasn’t my fault. Ya left it on table for anyvne!”

Tord’s eye skimmed the paper first, battle report, and the sighting of Tom. His eye landed on ‘actions’. Detailed notes of his every action were listed. It helped to put one nail in the blue bastard’s coffin. ‘The blue general was seen having trouble seeing anything twenty feet in front of himself. Seemed to be the effects of war and past trauma.’ A sickening smile covered Tord’s face. His mind fills up with plans and ideas, all meaning Tom’s endless suffering. Eye flicking over to his right-hand men. Pat instantly stopped choking Paul and quickly stood straight and dusted off his uniform. 

“Patryck, get my planning board. It’s almost time for mission Jehovah,” Tord gleamed as he rested his face in a gloved hand. Patryck looked over at Paul and glared just before he bowed and exited the room. Tord then turned his attention to the Russian bastard. 

“Vhat ya vant me to do sir?” the brute asked fully knowing his new mission.

“Pat and I are still going to go forward with the siege of base yellow. But I need to write you out of the plan because you are going to do something so much more important. You’re going to get me another prize. You get a fight and I get what I want,” he hissed excitedly as he scrambled to unlock and open his top desk drawer. 

“Let guess, Tom and I vill be separated. I subdue khim and bring back base,” Paul grinned as he straightened himself up a little, “Vas I right, Red Leader?”

“On the mark as always, Paul,” Tord smiled as the drawer slid open with a small squeak. A small syringe was placed on the desk as Tord leaned back. “This is for after the fight, it’s to knock him out for long enough for you to get him back to base. Nothing more and nothing less. I don’t want to take the fun out of it for you.”

The man sitting in civilian clothing nodded and stood up to leave. He wanted to be present for the next war meeting and had to look presentable. Just to sit and watch as the table squirmed at the thought of him getting something oh so important for the glorious leader all by himself. Tord knew most of his hired strategists thought the human-bear wasn’t smart enough to do simple math. But they only see the surface of his bravest soldier. Battle hungry, Paul was driven to fight everyone in his path. Paul has faced smart combatants and has come out on top. Why? He isn’t as dumb as he looks, and Tord loved that fact.

It wasn’t a very hard decision to let Paul take care of Tom. Paul was a fierce and loyal soldier, along with his bravery it barely scratched the surface of his title. The Red Russian Bear. The title alone would make everyone stand at attention, but if one was unlucky it meant their death was imminent. So maybe he deserved some sort of metal in honor of his bravery. Now, normally bravery is seen as the thing that got many men killed. A fool’s pride, Tord would say, was what really got men slaughtered. Being able to swallow that pride was a key factor in survival, especially in war. Paul knew what he could and cannot handle. Tord himself had a good sense at reading that too. And Tom would be right up Paul’s alley. The Russian Bear always bickered about missing Tom on the battlefield. ‘Sparring’ against a man that took down Tord was Paul’s focus for getting stronger. Even if it was a stretch. 

With the board about to learn the new layout, Tord knew it was going to be hard to sell Paul. 'Too much of a brute,' and 'I wouldn't be surprised if he killed him,' entered the Red Leader’s mind. A cruel smile covered his face. He'll make them watch it, force them to sit down, and watch as Paul does his task. In the end, he'll give them an ultimatum, shut up or become Paul’s punching bag. He would love to see that. Paul would love it too.

'Crack!' 

The doors flew open as several men raided the room. Tord’s smile had vanished and formed into a very annoyed scowl. No one was allowed to enter his office without letting him know. And this pissed him of sparking the idea of calling Paul down for a quick demonstration. But Tord fought the urge and leaned back into his chair with a grimace. Hands folding together to rest under his chin as men sat with anger written all over their faces.

"The hell were you thinking!"

"Paul isn't even a good soldier let alone able to complete such important tasks!"

"This decision will cause the mission to fail!"

"All that Cabbage Eater is good for is to fight and die in your stead!"

Tord was letting them yell. Waiting for them to see the dangerous glint in his eye or the fact that the black glove was removed. Discarded on his desk as his metal fingers danced ominously against the wood. Bright red and coursing with energy it waited diligently to be used. To scorch a hole through whoever is in its path. Their mouths didn’t stop moving as more and more insults filled Tord’s ears. His temper was getting the best of him. Having them insult Paul was an insult to him too. Did they really think that Tord didn’t think this out. Operation Jehovah has been picked over for years, an obsession really, until it was perfect. And Paul was the key to it working. And these men dare to insult him. Lifting his right hand, there was no room for racists around here anyway, and fired. A beam of blue light seared its way through a man’s head. 

“Silence. Your bothersome escapade is quite poorly thought out. As you dared to bombard my office without permission and then scream treason. You all insult me. The meeting will take place in the war room in two hours. Patryck will give you the debrief,” Tord hissed as he got to his feet. Pulling the black glove back over his hand. A wicked grin made it to his face when he looked over at the bear. “I have some preparations I need to finish.”

The walk through the crowded halls was going to be long and tedious. Tord pushed his way through the group in front of him. Even stepping on the corpse to get another point across. Red Leader was still in a good mood, and it was best to keep it that way. Taking a single step into the bland hall told Tord something important. Everyone has taken shelter in fear of his anger. A chuckle left his lips as he walked the short distance to the elevator. Soft music flowed through his ear as he pressed his palm into the scanning pad. It flashed green and asked for a pin. 881928 was entered without hesitation. Tord dreaded the moment when the doors opened to the science sector halls. It was the basement of the base, cold and unforgiving, just like him. The soldiers and scientists crowding the halls stopped in place just to salute him. He didn’t like it one bit. They had work to do. Saluting him as he passed by was a waste of time in his opinion. A big waste of time.

His lab, the biggest of the three they had, was in the far corner of the basement. And down a hundred feet from the rest of the floor. While the other labs served as testing rooms on side projects. Other rooms were offices, staff rooms, and supply rooms locked up heavily. He was proud of this floor, it was perfect. Tord was pleased when he saw a few faces glance up at him slightly but continued on their way. Perfect behavior he expected from his men. The elevator came into sight with a familiar face guarding the doors with an unbreaking scowl. Yuu, young and bright, was a battle-hardened soldier but with the way he acts off shift would say otherwise. A smile graced Tords lips as he greeted the soldier with a slight bow of his head. Smiling slyly in response Yuu stepped out of the way and opened the door for his leader. No words ever needed to be exchanged, just how he liked it.

The music here was a mix of classical music from all around the world. His type of music, calming to most, caused a violent spark in Tord. Sometimes only blood could snuff out the spark. But today was different, he was expecting a guest. Everything has to be ready for his arrival. As the doors slid open Tord’s ears were greeted with the sound of tiny buzzing wings and legs. Insects lined one was from the ceiling to the floor. Some were for show, prizes in Tord’s eyes, and others were for much more gruesome tests. Bugs always got people to talk or do what he wanted. Not easy to kill, they were hard to replace when they finally did. Tord had genetically modified all of the damned insects in the room, it took weeks to get a successful result. Right now Tord didn’t have the time to deal with any of that. Something more important was coming up so the small list on his desk was ignored for the moment. 

Large and made of steel his work desk took up the back corner of the room. Out of sight of the door and facing away from the adjacent walls. He had a good view of the test chamber. Several thick layers of bulletproof grade glass surrounded a forty by forty plot of concrete. Nothing was inside at the moment but Tord was about to change that. Hitting a switch on his desk a buzzer sounded as the glass walls were retracted into the ceiling. Grabbing his welding gear and previously made metal pieces he made his way to the very middle of the grey concrete. He had already had metal plates drilled into place. One at each corner of the plot. Placing the pieces in the right places Tord returned to his desk. Blowtorch at his hip, leather glove removed, welding glove and shield equipped, and he reached underneath the metal to grab a long and thick roll of chains. Several, several steel chains that were easily attachable to certain pieces of equipment. 

It took a few minutes to untangle the mess but he didn’t care in the slightest. He had all the time in the world to finish this. Pushing the welding shield over his face he started the blowtorch. A loop in the chain was linked to a thick, cylindrical, and curved piece of metal. Tord spent ten minutes just to make sure one end was firmly connected to the floor. He moved onto the next step after he welded the other end securely. Creating a thick box around the anchor point was important, always making sure one had a hard time to pull against the restraints. A small opening at the top just big enough to fight the chain links. And he repeated, corner after corner he welded metal to metal with glee. A new prize was sure to be his, was on its way, everything had to be perfect. No hiccups, no nothing. Whipping away the sweat from his forehead Tord let his red welding mask lay on the floor next to his welding glove. 

At some point, he had discarded the upper half of his uniform to cool off at some point. It wasn’t like he cared. A cold glass of water was suddenly in his view as he sat back on his ass. Taking it gratefully he chugged the tall glass with ease. Only one person was able to give him something like that. Short and still growing they were able to go anywhere they wanted, well most places. They were just a child after all. AK sat in front of his leader, the man that had saved his life, his life was already being planned. A future leader in the making. After seeing the way they could handle a gun was the first sign of skill. The kid’s ability to learn was something Tord could’ve only ever imagined. Tord held a soft smile on his face.

“Hello there AK, you are right on time as always,” he said, handing back the glass cup to the kid. They were probably only eight to ten years of age, yet they understood more than most soldiers here. AK sees and hears everything, Red Leader’s perfect little informant. Tord quickly flipped the panel on his metal arm to reveal an assortment of buttons accompanied by a small touch screen. The clock glowing in the corner softly. “I have a meeting I have to attend too. So I have a little task for you, soldier.”

AK stared blankly up at him and nodded and moved his hands swiftly, ‘What do you need me to do?’, Tord smiled.

“I need you to observe the kitchen for me. Commander Patryck has already sent my request to them. I need you to make sure they do it right. We have a guess coming soon,” Tord laughed, danger glinted in his eyes, then he paused before speaking again. “And make them make those cream cheese pastries.”

Tord could practically feel the excitement radiating off of the kid as they saluted quickly. Followed by swift hand movements, ‘You can count on me!’.

Watching as the child ran to the elevator Tord looked around for his uniform. It sat neatly on his chair, someone had placed it there he determined. Walking over to pull the red fabric over his head to cover up his torso. His navy blue jacket was quickly adjusted as he put it on. He didn’t care to button it up, a meeting was waiting for him, he needed to go. Following the path AK had made minutes before, he called and entered the elevator with ease. Yuu greeted him with his water bottle. With a quick grunt Tord took the bottle and took a few gulps before giving it back. Clapping his hand on Yuu’s shoulder in thanks before walking off. The water felt good going down his throat. There was always something bottled water did to make Tord crave it. Maybe it was from the long nights of endless tests or paperwork. He didn’t know nor care as he rushed his way to the main elevator. 

‘902719’ was entered with a now black leather digit. The elevator hummed as Tord was taken back up to the highest floor again. All he needed to do was enter the hall that warped around his office. His office guards saluted once they saw them then went quickly back to staring forward. Giving a nod in approval as Tord continued forward. The clicking of his heels echoed through the halls yet another pair quickly joined him. Heavy yet calculated the steps quickened to catch up as fast as they could. Swamping his senses by the scent of cigarettes Paul stood tall next to him as they walked. His commander held pride and it rubbed off on him.

“Do you remember Marcus? The old man that always had something to say?” Tord started, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Paul hummed in reply, he knew that the man was holding his tongue. Tord gave off a low chuckle, “You no longer have to worry about him. My world has no place for him.”

“Vell, I should zank my leader for blessing me,” Paul joked with a hardy laugh as they rounded the corner to step in front of the large cherry doors. Ancient nordic art was carved into the red wood, it was specially made just for him. Then Paul opened the door for him. “After you.”

The room was dark, the only light coming from the large touch screen. Patryck stood next to it with a sour look on his face. Even though the room was silent, except for the electrical hum, Tord could easily tell words had been thrown. Cracking his neck lightly he took his seat. A large black leather chair looking at who all attended. Paul was still standing by the door looking at the screen in curiosity. No one looked happy in the damn room, except for Paul and himself. A groan of annoyance left his throat as he got comfortable in his chair. Then he cleared his throat.

“Well, where do I begin?”


End file.
